


Yellow Checkered Cars

by Bandom_Squirrel



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Summer of Like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandom_Squirrel/pseuds/Bandom_Squirrel
Summary: Greg had driven some pretty weird people, but he’d never quite forget the two gay rockstars.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Yellow Checkered Cars

Greg didn’t hate his job, exactly. He didn’t love it, and definitely didn’t plan on doing it for the rest of his life, but it was a job, and paid his rent while he waited for a better opportunity to present itself. 

Greg was a taxi driver based in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It was often a boring occupation, but every so often he’d drive someone exceptionally bizarre and it would make for a good story to tell. That very thing happened on one evening in late June. 

The two men who had called the cab were far from the weirdest people he’d driven, but they were certainly interesting. The address he had been given was of a movie theater, and a tall skinny man who was wearing a beanie and a leather jacket despite it being the middle of summer and a shorter man with excessive eyeliner and black nail polish climbed into the back of the cab. 

“Can you take us to the parking lot of the NMSU practice fields?” the shorter man asked, and both he and the other man were grinning and giggling. Greg nodded, punching the location into the GPS. He was pretty sure there was some sort of music festival going on there, though he was also pretty sure it had already ended. 

“Yes sir, I can do that,” Greg replied, waiting for the two men to get settled in the back so that he could pull out onto the street. 

“Thanks dude.” The short man was already not even looking at him, his full attention now directed towards the tall man, smirking at him like they were both in on some hilarious inside joke that was only funnier around people who didn’t get it. 

“Hey, I made a mixtape, could you play it?” This time it was the taller man speaking, in a much more nasally voice than Greg had expected.

“Of course.” Greg nodded, taking the CD handed to him and inserting it into the cab’s CD player, the music beginning to play as he pulled into the street. 

“Dude, is this Rancid? You have serious taste,” the short man exclaimed as the music started. Greg didn't recognize the song himself, but it seemed to be some genre of rock, and the shorter man with the black nail polish seemed very excited by it. 

“I have the best taste,” the tall man with the beanie said matter-of-factly, and although Greg was watching the road, he could hear the grin in his voice. 

“See, this is why I’m keeping you,” the short man proclaimed, doing something Greg couldn’t see that made the other man left out a huff of air, followed by excessive giggling from both of them. 

When the vocals in the song started, both of the men sang along. Loudly. And very, very badly. While they both held the appearance of rock stars, if he’d have to guess what occupations they held, they were most definitely not singers. He also caught a glimpse of them making extravagant arm motions to the rhythm of the song, like they were dancing with just their upper bodies. 

Greg wondered for a moment if they were both extremely high, but they didn’t seem to be. They were just both really happy, which wasn’t something he saw all too often. From the short moments he caught sight of them in the rear view mirror, they seemed to be singing at each other, and Greg wondered for a moment if he was driving two gay rockstars. They would be far from his strangest passengers. 

As Greg turned onto the highway, the next song started, and the shorter man let out a woop, and Greg could tell without looking that he was pumping his fists in the air.

“Fuck yeah, Danzig! You’re the best, Mikeyway!” the excessively eyelinered man cheered loudly, and Greg wondered if he was more excited about the song or about the other man. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you only like me for my music taste,” the skinnier man accused, deadpan. The short man let out a loud laugh at that, and Greg heard the sound of one of the windows opening. 

“Yep, just your music taste and your hot bod. Come on,” the shorter man yelled, and his voice sounded distant with the last two words. Confused, Greg shot a look back to see that the man was leaning out the window, his entire torso outside of the car. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Greg told him, and the man pulled his head inside of the car and blinked at him in surprise, as if he’d somehow forgotten that he was there. 

“Please?” The man fished through his pocket, which Greg was surprised could hold anything due to how tight his jeans were, and threw a twenty dollar bill at him. “I’ll pay the ticket and take full blame if we get pulled over.”

“Alright,” Greg agreed with a shrug. If the road got busier, he’d make him stop, but any money was useful, and he doubted the man was going to somehow fall out of the car. 

“Thank you so much man! Come on, Mikey, you too!” Greg glanced in the mirror to see the smaller man trying to pull the tall man towards the window, although the taller man was rolling his eyes. 

“Pete, both of us won’t be able to fit out of the same window,” the man reasoned, although he still unbuckled his seat belt. “I’ll get in the front.” And just like that, the tall skinny man was climbing into the front seat of the taxi. Greg had half a mind to stop him, but was too invested in the situation to stop it. 

“Good idea. I lied, this is why I like you. Here.” The shorter man pulled the taller man’s glasses off of his face, and then they were both leaning out the window, screaming along with the song’s lyrics as the wind billowed in the hair. Greg did them a favor and turned the volume up. 

When he risked a glance back at the shorter man, he saw that he’d stopped singing, instead gazing at the other man fondly and grinning. Greg could’ve sworn he saw him mouth an “I love you” before resuming yelling badly along to Danzig. 

“Alright, alright. Get back in here,” Greg called as they were nearing their exit, not wanting them to still be half out the window when they reached a much more busy road. Fortunately, they both listened, ducking back into the car, and the taller man climbed back into the backseat. 

“I have the best ideas, Mikeyway,” the eyelinered man proclaimed once they were both seated. His companion snorted. 

“I was the one who said we should see that movie. I have better ideas,” the other man argued, and the short man hummed along. 

“Mhm. That’s why I like you: your music taste, hot bod, and good ideas,” the man stated happily, and Greg could practically hear the way he smiled. 

“Gerard’s gonna want to talk to you about it. He has a bunch of opinions and shit that he likes sharing with everyone,” the man with the beanie said blankly, though his friend must have sensed something in his tone that Greg missed. 

“Well maybe I want to hear your opinions and shit,” the shorter man decided, and Greg saw in the mirror that he was leaning up against the other man’s side. “I know you have a lot of them.”

“I do,” the skinny man confirmed, and Greg naturally tuned out the rest of their conversation for a while, not knowing anything about whatever they were discussing. It was a few minutes until he listened in on them again, and the topic seemed to have changed completely. 

“Wait, if having a bass player boyfriend is a red flag, are we just doubly fucked?” It was the shorter man speaking, and he sounded far too concerned for how ridiculously his question was. 

“Hmm,” his friend (or boyfriend, Greg guessed, it looked like he’d been right in his gay rockstars assumption) replied thoughtfully. “No, I think we just cancel each other out.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good,” the eyelinered man sighed, words heavy with genuine relief. Greg didn’t understand exactly why that seemed to hold so much weight to him, but he rarely did. 

“You’re really weird, you know that?” The lanky man didn’t seem like he was being judgmental, more like he was simply stating a fact. 

“Yep,” the other man confirmed dismissively, and then they both went silent for a while. When Greg checked in the mirror, he wasn’t surprised to see that they were making out in the backseat. 

Greg made the decision not to tell them to stop, instead just determinedly focusing on the road and not letting his gaze wander to the back seat. This went on for a while, during which the sunset started painting the sky a pretty pink and gold color as they neared their destination. 

“Oh my god, wait!” Greg heard the shorter man shout from the back, sounding a bit breathless. It startled him almost enough to swerve the car, but he was used to driving with distractions enough not to. “Hey, dude, can we stop at this bridge up here?”

“Why?” Greg asked, looking towards the bridge the man was referring to. It was just a small footbridge over a river, which was so dry that it was basically just a ditch.

“True love?” The man tried, leaning forward so Greg could see him staring hopefully at him from the corner of his eye. The other man snorted. 

“You only love yourself, Wentz,” the skinny man objected, deadpan, and the shorter man stopped giving Greg puppy eyes for a moment in order to gawk at the accusation. 

“That is not true! I’m gonna sit on a bridge with you, Mikeyway,” the eyelinered man proclaimed, then immediately turned back to Greg. “Please? I’ll pay you more.”

“Alright,” Greg agreed, switching on his turn signal to pull over. He would’ve done so without the bribe of money, but he wasn’t exactly going to turn it down either. 

Greg watched as the two men fumbled out of the car, the shorter one dragging the taller one to the bridge by his hands. They were sitting on the bridge’s edge, facing the sunset, giggling at something Greg couldn’t hear. The beanie-clad one laid his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, as the other man rapidly typed something on his phone. A moment later they were kissing again, and Greg looked away. 

Subconsciously, Greg twisted the wedding ring on his finger. It had been almost a week since he and his wife had started sleeping in different beds, and he wondered why seeing two people young and infatuated with each other didn’t make him jealous, or feel worse about his situation. No, actually, watching two gay rockstars who obviously weren’t meant for eachother being young and infatuated with each other gave him hope, and he leaned back in his seat. 

It was likely that the gay rockstars wouldn’t last, but maybe he could.


End file.
